Our better Halves
by SwordGold
Summary: How ironic is it, that even something marked by tragedy can have a tiny silver lining. While mourning the loss of his twin brother, George Weasley finds himself being reacquainted with an old friend. The war is over; Fred is gone, yet life still moves forward.
1. Lost and Found

_Hi again! I was recently re-reading the Harry Potter Series because why not and I thought about how George and Angelina get married in the future, and that sparked an idea. So I hope you enjoy!_

 _\- SwordGold_

 _Disclaimer: None of these characters are mine - everything belongs to J.K_

* * *

 **Tone of Surprise**

"You came," George failed to suppress his shock as he approached the witch after the funeral.

Angelina raised an eyebrow, "Why the tone of surprise?" she smiled, though it didn't quite reach her deep brown eyes. She had such beautiful eyes, George thought to himself as they stood together in front of the newly dug grave of his twin brother. Her hair was braided into a messy bun, with small ringlets that framed her bronze oval face. Fred had always liked to play with her hair in between Quidditch practices. George remembered that because he'd teased Fred that if he kept doing that he'd get tangled in it. Fred and George had both had a thing for the fiery Gryffindor but Fred had always been more forward about his affections, and George, not wanting to come in between them had accepted it with a smile and a laugh. They had dropped out of contact when Angelina and her family had gone into hiding when Voldemort had taken over the Ministry.

"Fred always looked at me like that," she murmured, bringing him out of his reverie.

"Huh?"

"That look that you've been giving me for the past five minutes," she elaborated with a teasing quirk of her lips as she brought her face closer to his.

"What look?" he asked: genuinely curious now. They were so close that he could smell that floral perfume that she wore.

"That look that you always teased him about," she replied.

"I teased him about a lot of things though," he pointed out, causing the former to giggle slightly, "He loved you, you know."

Those words seemed to drop between them like stones, her smile disappearing from her face just as quickly as it had appeared. For some reason her lack of response only seemed to spur him on. He thought back to the golden pin that still sat warm in his pocket.

" _Angelina will love this,"_ Fred had said as he'd passed a hefty handful of galleons to the shopkeeper. George had rolled his eyes and called him a _"lovesick dork"_ because he was and Fred had shrugged his shoulders and laughed in response.

He'd taken it from his brother's pocket when he'd died. How ironic it was that a small delicate pin had survived the explosion but his ever-smiling brother hadn't.

George took it out of his pocket and placed it into the witch's hands.

"Fred bought this for you," he said, "Before the war, I mean … he was going to give it to you after the battle but he …"

 _Didn't make it_ went the unspoken.

Angelina seemed lost for words, but when George tried to take his hand back she didn't let go. His eyes widened for a moment, temporarily taken back. She searched his face that reminded her so much of Fred that it made her heart flutter.

"It's beautiful," she whispered, "Thank you."

She reached up and pressed her lips briefly against his cheek before she stepped back, her eyes still on his, now swimming with tears before she disapparated, leaving George alone with nothing but his thoughts and the grave of his other half as he felt the place where her lips had come into contact with his cheek.


	2. Lies and Compromising

**George and his shit**

 _One month later …_

"How could I help you little miss … oh," George trailed off when he recognised her. He'd been trying to avoid her ever since the funeral. Whether it was out of guilt or honour of his dead brother he wasn't sure, but here she was standing before him with her braided hair and deep brown eyes. She wore a loose red Quidditch jumper over her skin-tight halter-top and worn denim jeans that contrasted against her pair of multi-coloured high tops.

"You've been avoiding me," she stated, crossing her arms over her chest as she glared at him as if she were about to berate him for miss-hitting a Bludger in the wrong direction.

George blinked, "Uh pardon?"

"Ever since the funeral, you've been avoiding me," she repeated.

George felt his cheeks burn crimson as he averted his eyes.

"I've been _working_ ," he corrected her as he straightened one of the displays of Ah-no-poo behind her.

"Bullshit."

"Excuse me?"

"Bull. Shit." Angelina Johnson said, blocking him as he tried in vain to side step around her.

George felt a smirk tug at his lips despite himself because, of course the former Quidditch captain saw right through him, and he immediately felt guilty.

"Look, as you can see I'm kinda busy at the moment so can we talk about this later?" he lied; internally cringing at how grumpy he sounded.

Angelina raised an eyebrow.

"Please?" he added, trying not to sound too desperate.

She sighed, "I can't say no to that face of yours," she murmured beneath her breath as she sighed in defeat.

"I'll see you at your flat at four o'clock," the tone of her voice gave very little to negotiation, and, realising that there was no way he could possibly get out of it, George nodded.

"Four o'clock," he mumbled.

Her entire face seemed to light up as she smiled, "Don't leave me hanging, Weasley," she hummed half-teasingly, squeezing his shoulder gently before she stepped backwards, eventually giving him just enough room to pass.

He returned her smile with one of his lopsided grins, "Wouldn't dream of it, Johnson," he replied.

* * *

 _So ... what do you guys think so far? Feel free to review and/or favourite - they're like digital hugs_

 _Yours truly,_

 _SwordGold_


	3. Dust and Mould

**Nothing to Eat**

"Hey," she said.

"Hey," he replied, suddenly becoming acutely self-conscious of the fact that his blazer was burnt and smelt vaguely of Bulladox powder.

"Are you going to let me in?" she asked.

"Hmm? Oh, yeah, sure," he scrambled out of her way, tripping over his laces and probably would have landed flat on his face if she hadn't caught him by his forearm. She was surprisingly strong for somebody of her stature and pulled him back to his feet with relative ease.

"You okay?" she asked, her brow temporarily furrowed with concern. Even her frown was cute, he thought as he brushed himself off.

"Yeah, yeah," he managed to stammer, "Nice reflexes by the way."

Her lips quirked into a slight smile, "Thank you," she replied, "It's nice to know that even after not playing Quidditch for so long I still have some skill."

"So …" George rubbed the back of his neck as Angelina examined the room from behind his shoulder.

"Your place is … nice."

George didn't think that nice was really the right word for it but he shrugged his shoulders nonetheless. Ever since Fred had died, George couldn't really stand to be in the place. Even after the apartment had been stripped of anything that was vaguely related to his twin brother, leaving every room uncomfortably clean and devoid of Weasley personality, George still couldn't bring himself to stay there. He imagined his brother coming into the kitchen with his ridiculous pyjamas and rainbow socks, whistling as he made breakfast. Not long after Fred's death, George had opened a cupboard to see Fred's dead corpse hanging from one of the clothes hangers and was startled before he realised that it was only a Boggart. Now, instead of sleeping in his room George had moved his mattress to the shop's storage room and slept there, lulled to sleep by the familiar odour of stink pellets. He had considered even renting the place out, but he could never seem to bring himself to fill out the forms for it.

"I don't use it that often," he admitted as Angelina ran her finger through the thick layer of dust that covered the kitchen bench top.

She raised an eyebrow, "Where do you sleep then?" she asked.

"Oh I have a mattress in the back of the store," he replied truthfully, "The only time I come up here is if I've forgotten something or I need to make food, but Fred was always the one who did the cooking …" he trailed off as he averted his gaze from hers.

"I can make you something," she offered him kindly, "You probably haven't eaten anything since breakfast." George couldn't remember the last time that he'd actually eaten properly, but he didn't mention that.

"I'm not that hungry," he lied instead. It was at that exact moment when his stomach decided to growl.

Angelina laughed as she took a quick glance at the contents of his fridge.

"Well it looks like we'll have to go shopping," she said with a smile.

He raised an eyebrow, "As in now?"

"Yes now," she came up to him with her wand in her hand before she repaired the burnt front of his blazer and siphoned off the stain, "Unless you rather eat what may or may not be a furry half-eaten pumpkin pastry …" she teased, gesturing to the mouldy triangle of puff pastry that had turned to a rather revolting shade of green.

George cringed, "Blimey, I forgot about that," he replied, rubbing the back of his neck rather bashfully before he relented with a sigh, "Well I suppose we should go shopping then."


	4. Don't let the muggles get you down

_Hey Guys!_

 _So I know that I haven't been updating recently and I'd like to apologise for that._ _The reason for this is that I've been put through a whirlwind of drama otherwise known as my family._

 _So, after being manipulated and quite literally used as a stick to poke the sleeping dragon, I thought that a bit of George/Angelina fluff would help get my mind off things. It may be a bit shorter than I would have liked but hey, it's something right?_

 _The main thing is that I'm alive and still (miraculously) somewhat intact._

 _As the Great Ronald Weasley would say: "Don't let the Muggles get you down!" And I'm not about to let them get the better of me just yet._

 _Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy this newest chapter :)_

 _With all my love,_

 _Sword Gold._

 _P.S: **Don't** use people to poke sleeping dragons - it doesn't end well. _

Disclaimer: _I do not own the Harry Potter franchise or any of its characters - they all belong to the beautiful J.K Rowling._

* * *

 **Shopping with Angelina**

"Not that I mind being dragged around by a beautiful witch such as yourself and all, but where exactly are you taking me?" George asked as she towed him out of Diagon Alley and into the bustling muggle streets of London.

"Shopping," she replied as if it were obvious.

George raised a questioning eyebrow, "But Diagon Alley is the other way …"

"We're trying something new," she answered with a toothy grin that reminded him so much of his brother that his heart skipped a beat.

"Something new?"

He watched her roll those fantastic brown eyes of hers, and found himself not minding this side to her as they ploughed through the crowd with their arms interlocked with one another.

Even in the street, George could feel people's eyes following him and pointing at the hole where his ear was supposed to be.

" _Saintlike."_

" _Ah ... come again_ _?"_

" _I'm holy … Holey Fred, get it?"_

" _Out of all the ear-related humour in the world, you chose 'I'm holey'? Pathetic."_

Merlin's beard, even his own disfigurement reminded him of his dead twin.

Sure, George's apparent lack of an ear hadn't bothered him in the past but now without Fred to make jokes about it with, it had (quite literally) left a hole in his heart.

And the constant attention didn't help.

He shook his head, and, if it weren't for Angelina, probably would have been flattened by oncoming traffic.

"Careful," she hissed, yanking him back onto the curb as a truck blared its horn at them.

"Thanks," he stammered.

"Huh, twice in a row now – it's almost becoming a habit," she teased gently.

George grinned, hoping that his cheeks weren't as hot as they felt.

"Yeah, I suppose it is," he agreed as he ran a hand through his hair in a sheepish attempt to hide the side of his face.

"You don't have to do that you know?" she murmured softly.

"Do what?"

"That," she went on her tiptoes to brush his hair out of his face.

"But people will stare …"

"And since when did the Great George Weasley care about that?"

She did have a point.

He felt another smirk tug at the corners of his lips.

"Fine, I guess we'll let them stare then."

Angelina flashed him another dazzling smile, "Damn right we will," she replied as she re-linked her arm with his, "Now follow my lead Weasley – you and I are gonna strut like no-one's watching"

* * *

 _So what did you guys think? Comments? Ideas?_

 _A writer could always use the magical opinion of a reader ..._

 _Comment, review or favourite if you liked this - I always look forward to any feedback from my fellow Potterheads_

 _Until next time - S.G_


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